Traitor
by DoctorDoctor
Summary: It is human nature to betray, to be betrayed. In this, the most unlikely people can become identical.
1. Chapter 1

"You will die," she informed him calmly, eyes flat. "You will die, slowly, and nobody will care."

She flashed a dark grin, and appeared next to him like smoke.

"Nobody will care," she whispered into his ear as he stood still, head bowed, only kept upright by chains on both wrists. He slumped even more so, his pride broken.

"They will watch you burn, see your flesh crackle and fry, and laugh at your misfortune," she hissed, a sated look washing onto her face.

She took a step back, black fabric boots not making a sound on the damp, grimy stone floor of the freezing cold cell.

"You're just another traitor, brother, and traitors don't deserve to live."


	2. Chapter 2

He didn't bother listening.

"Sokka—Sokka wait, Sokka. Wait! Sokka! Would you just listen—" he turned.

"Katara," he hissed.

"Tell me, Katara," he drew out his sister's name mockingly.

"Why the fuck should I listen? You got Aang, the avatar, the world's _only_ hope—and more importantly, our _friend_—you got him executed."

Her teeth clenched.

"Sokka," she sobbed, "it wasn't my—"

He cut her off.

"Bullshit!" he snarled, eyes hard.

"It was your fault."

Sokka turned his back after one last burning glare.

She sobbed hysterically, screaming between gulps of air. "You know what? Fuck you, Sokka!"

He sneered, and turned his head slightly. "You," he breathed cheerfully. "you, dear, dear sister of mine, can go fuck Zuko like you did when his men slit Aang's throat."

He managed a weak, forced grin.

"I said I'd always do what's best for the tribe. I have to, don't I? I'm the only man we had left." Katara whimpered.

"Sokka," she sobbed. "please, Sokka…"

"Katara, Katara, Katara," he sang her name mockingly. "You are no sister of mine, you are no woman of our tribe."

"You can't. You can't! Sokka—you can't do this to me! You're my brother!"

His expression soured, and she saw the bitter fury. "But you are no sister of mine. Katara," he paused, speaking through her frantic pleas. "I hereby disown and expel you. You are no longer a member of the southern water tribes. Do not enter our territory again, traitor."


	3. Chapter 3

Sokka stared at his reflection, one looking glumly back at him from the water.

He, in a moment of pure rage, had effectively killed his sister. It had to be done, this was doubtless; as the oldest member of the Water Tribe within several hundred miles, he was entitled to draw and pass judgment on erroneous actions.

And, as every man and woman of the Water Tribe knew, for 100 years, one nation was the Enemy. To perhaps consort with a Fire Nation citizen, maybe even after the probable death of their father and many of the village men, this he could allow.

He could shun her, but allow it.

But he knew the law, and this time he didn't disagree.

Now, he had no family; had lost his family when he had to steel himself to the broken stare of his younger sister as she gazed at the small, helpless, cold, _dead_ body of Aang.

He had loved Aang.

He'd always wanted a brother, and here he was, a friend, a brother. Possibly more, but that could have come when he was older. (Oh, Sokka looked at men too, he was quiet about this, but he appreciated raw masculine beauty.)

And he had gotten the _utmost _pleasure of being marched by Zuko's soldiers—_and his sister_—to the Fire Nation camp, to see the dead, mutilated body of Aang swinging limply from the rope tied around his wrists.

The explanation?

"He wouldn't come quietly, and it really doesn't matter if he lives or not."

Zuko said this, calmly, while his sister's grip on him tightened.

And to have his sister confess that they had done something so vile, willing—Aang's body, swinging in the breeze; the breeze he once so flippantly controlled—how dare they _desecrate_ such a pure being!

To fuck the man who killed him. Willingly.

Sokka looked away from the water.

He still loved his sister. He _loved_ her. He _hated_ her, but he loved her.

He should have killed her, made it clean and simple. But he loved her too much—or not enough, and when she had fought his decision tooth and nail, he knocked her unconscious and ran like a coward.

So now he, too, was a betrayer.

He betrayed his sister.

He should have killed her, then himself.

But he wanted to live. Wanted her to live.

What filthy beings we all are, he mused, before shattering the image of his reflection with a slap at the water.


End file.
